


the truth is just a rule that you can bend

by stefonzolesky



Category: American Pie (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fuck This, Love Confessions, M/M, finch and jeanine are engaged, i'm a terrible writer, i'm really out here writing american pie fic in 2018, maybe ooc but who fucking cares anymore, stifler is stupid and gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-19 21:12:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15518682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stefonzolesky/pseuds/stefonzolesky
Summary: Jim blinks. He glances from Finch, to Oz, to Stifler, and then says, “Motherfucker, you were trying when we kissed!”





	the truth is just a rule that you can bend

_Knock, knock, knock._

“Fuckface!”

  _Knock, knock, knock._

“Fuckface!”

_Knock, knock, knock._

“Fuck--”

The door swings open.

“Jesus Christ, Stifler!” Oz almost-shouts. He rubs his eyes. “It's fuck o’clock in the morning, dude, why are you here?”

“Let me in.” Stifler pushes past Oz and into his apartment -- a recent adjustment, maybe six months, because he needed a place quickly after his second breakup with Heather. He's mentioned saving for a bigger place with his television money. In that moment, the six months of living alone is what matters to Stifler.

“I need you to do me a favor, okay? And you can't tell _anyone._ Especially not Finch. If you breathe a word of this to Finch, I will have your fucking head.”

“Okay, Mister CIA.” Oz rolls his eyes. “What is it?”

Stifler sighs and practically throws himself down on a nearby chair. “My mom just got engaged, and last month I told her…” He chews on his lip, actually nervous for once in his life. “Don't fucking tell anyone, alright? Promise?”

Oz’s eyebrows furrow. He raises his hands in a surrender. “I promise.”

“Last month, I told her that I'm gay, and--”

_“What?”_

“Shut _up!”_ Stifler groans. He runs his hands down his face, exasperated. “I know, okay? Shut up. The Stifmeister is a faggot, big fucking deal. I knew I shouldn't have mentioned you, I knew I should have just gone on Craigslist--”

“-- Okay, okay,” Oz interrupts, a laugh fading off. “I'm sorry. You've just always been such a… ladies man. Go ahead, what do you need?”

Stifler pauses, contemplating continuing his request.

“She didn't believe me,” He says. “So I lied and sorta… told her we were dating.”

Oz’s eyes go dull. “You want me to be your fake boyfriend,” He deadpans.

“She was impressed!” Stifler points out. “I love my mom, I want her to be impressed with my boyfriend. Besides, I can fake a break-up afterwards or whatever, she just told me to invite you to stay at the cottage with her and her fucking fiancé for a few days, and I didn't want to tell her I was lying.”

Stifler finally glances up to meet Oz’s eyes, and the last thing he expects is--

“Okay.”

“What?”

Oz nods. “I said, okay. I'm still trying to wrap my head around this whole thing. How did I not know you were gay?”

Stifler shrugs. “It took me fifteen years, give or take, of fucking women to figure it out. I don't blame you.”

Oz sighs, runs a hand through his hair, and takes a seat on the chair next to Stifler.

“Catch me up,” He says. “What do I need to know to be your fake boyfriend?”

The whole situation is very odd -- Stifler didn't really expect Oz to be on board in the first place -- but he leans forward and starts to give the rundown.

“I haven't actually met my mom's fiancé yet. She wants this to be a good impression. No matter what happens, just… go along with it. She knows you, alright? I told her we hooked up at the reunion last year and we've been dating ever since.”

“Reunion,” Oz repeats. “Got it.”

“We're sharing a room, obviously. Don't… be weird about it.” Stifler shifts awkwardly.

Oz nods, not phazed in the slightest.

“Talk about boys,” He says. “I need to stop thinking of you as straight.”

Stifler’s face warps. “What? No. Fuck off.”

There's a beat of silence, and then Oz says, “I should call you Steven in front of your mom, right?”

Stifler frowns. “Yeah. Steve, Steven, whatever. And hey--” He locks eyes with Oz. “Do _not_ blow this for me, fucker. You can't break character all weekend. I need this.”

“You can trust me, man,” Oz promises. He claps Stifler on the shoulder. “I won't let you down.”

 

+

 

The ride to the cottage is a bit awkward. Oz keeps one hand on the steering wheel, but his other is almost always on Stifler’s thigh.

“Trying to get into the mindset,” He explains. “You wouldn't want me to fuck this up, would you, babe?”

Stifler can't help but laugh at that. He stares at Oz’s hand on his thigh for most of the ride.

As they pull up to the cottage, Stifler turns to Oz. He frowns, nerves taking over his body.

“I'm gonna run in and butter her up. Oh, also, we're living together. Thank you _so_ fucking much.”

Oz nods, and in a moment of panic and knowing that he'll have to get used to it quickly, Stifler presses a kiss to his cheek. “You need help with the bags?”

Oz nods again, a smile tugging on his lips. “Don't worry,” He says. “I've got it. I need a minute to prepare, anyway.”

Stifler shoves one of his hands in his pockets, tugging the door open with the other. “Mom?”

A familiar voice says, “Fuck,” and there's a clatter coming from the bedroom.

“One second!” Jeanine calls, and she's straightening out the buttons on her shirt when she comes into view.

Stifler winces, “Fucking gross, Mom.”

Jeanine elects to ignore that, instead changing the subject to, “How has living with the boyfriend been treating you?”

“Boyfriend?” Finch asks.

_Finch._

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Stifler points a finger in his direction. “Mom, what the fuck? Are you fucking-- _Oh_ my God. Oz!”

“Oz?” Finch asks. Stifler is ready to punch him, now more than ever.

“He's getting our bags.” Stifler runs his hands down his face. “Ooh, fuck, Finch. I'm gonna kill you. I'm gonna--”

The door opens. “Steve? I hurried up, I heard you yelling--”

“ _Oz?”_

“Finch? What are you--”

“Finch is fucking my mom again!” Stifler whines, and it should be embarrassing, but he doesn't really care because _fuck this._

“Steven--” Finch starts to say.

Stifler winces. “Shut up. Asshole.”

Jeanine opens her mouth to say something, but Stifler rolls his eyes and storms off.

 

+

 

There's a knock at the bedroom door. “Stifler?”

Stifler’s response of, “Come in,” is muffled by the pillow over his face.

Oz sits down next to him on the bed. “How are you holding up?”

Stifler yanks his head up from the pillow. “Finch is gonna be my step-dad,” He grumbles. “How do you think I'm holding up, fuckface?”

He pushes himself so he's sitting. Oz sighs and wraps a hand around his shoulders. “I know, man, I know. It's… strange, but--”

“-- just _strange?”_ Stifler tugs himself away from Oz’s grip. “I fucking hate him. I hate that this is happening. You know, my mother is a _saint,_ and--”

“Stifler?” Finch’s voice comes into the room.

Stifler panics and presses his lips to Oz’s as quickly as he can.

The door opens a little bit, “Your mother-- oh. Am I interrupting something?”

Oz pulls away, red in the face, and says, “No, sorry.” He rubs his mouth with the back of his hand. “Did you need something?”

“Stifler's mom wants to talk to him,” Finch says, suddenly and very obviously uncomfortable. “I’ll--” He points to the hallway. “Sorry.”

Stifler lets out a breath as soon as he’s gone.

“I’m so sorry for dragging you into this shit,” He tells Oz quietly. “Seriously. I didn’t think you would agree, and I didn’t think it would be this much of a mess, and -- hey, do you have any weed? Nevermind. I need to wrap my head around this.”

He bites his lip and leaves before Oz gets the chance to say anything.

“She’s in the back,” Finch says. “I know this must be an unfortunate situation, for you, and for that I’m sorry.”

“Fuck you,” Stifler snaps. He keeps his eyes forward.

Stifler can see Finch nod out of the corner of his eye. “So, you and Oz…”

“Since the reunion.” Finch be damned, Stifler will _not_ compromise this lie. “What's it to you?”

“Nothing, nothing. I'm just… shocked I didn't find out sooner.”

“Maybe Oz doesn't tell you everything. You didn't think to maybe bring up that you were in a serious relationship with--” Stifler winces. “Whatever. Fuck you, asswipe. Mom?”

Finch decidedly stops trying to work this out with Stifler, as it becomes clear that he's getting nowhere with it.

“In here,” Jeanine says. There's smoke coming from the room. Stifler should have known. He hesitates before he sits down across from her, and she manages to get out, “I'm so glad you could make it, Steven. I know this situation--” before he cuts her off.

“No,” He says. Jeanine frowns. “Listen, Mom, I don't… I'm not happy with this, but I sure as fuck don't want you to _explain_ it to me.” He laughs haltingly. “I'll just have to get used to it. Or not. Or whatever. You don't have to justify yourself, even if I can't see whatever the fuck you see in… that.”

Jeanine frowns, and then gestures out the door. “Obviously, we have… different types.”

Stifler's mouth feels dry.

“Yeah,” He says. “I'm gonna go help Oz get settled in.”

 

+

 

Dinner that night is tense. Finch is clearly avoiding Stifler's gaze, and Oz holds Stifler’s hand over the table. Somehow, that hand-holding cuts down on the daggers he's been glaring in Finch’s direction.

“So,” Jeanine says. “Steven.”

Stifler breaks his stare at Finch. “Hm?”

“Is everything good with you?”

It's an odd question, not one that Jeanine would normally ask him, so Stifler hesitates.

“...Yeah,” He says. “Yeah, I've been good.”

Oz probably senses that Stifler is struggling a little bit, so he saves the conversation with, “We're kind of well off right now, because I got another TV job. It's no SportsView, but we're fixing to move out of the apartment and into an actual house.”

Finch stares at Oz in disbelief, clearly trying to pick apart his story.

“How long have you two been living together?” He asks. “I thought you were living with Heather until a few months ago.”

“I was,” Oz says. “We weren't going to tell you and the other guys that we were dating. So I stayed with Heather, and then we staged that big breakup. So, we've been living together…” He glances at Stifler. “Half a year?”

Stifler can't pretend that he isn't impressed by how naturally lying like this comes to Oz. He feigns a smile, reminding himself that he's supposed to be in love. It isn't very hard.

“Shit, yeah,” He says. “Half a year.”

Finch… frowns. “Have you told Jim and Kevin?”

Oz shakes his head. Finch, desperate because he doesn't want to believe this, says, “You should call them tonight.”

Stifler glances at Oz. “You think so, fuckface?”

Oz bites hard on his lip. “Yeah, probably.”

Finch leans back in his chair. He's uncomfortable, and Stifler wants to say, “Fuck you, you don't have the right to be uncomfortable,” but he keeps his mouth shut.

 

+

 

After dinner and a convincing kiss, Stifler drags Oz back to the bedroom.

“You don't have to call Kevin and Jim just because Finchfucker is calling my bluff,” He says, voice soft in case Finch is listening in. “You'll be way too committed, and this is only for the weekend.”

“Worst comes to worst, we drag it out,” Oz promises. “It's fine. I’ll text Heather too, okay? You don't want anyone to think you're faking.”

Stifler frowns. “Right. Fuck, thank you, man. Fuck. Invite Jim and Kevin to dinner tomorrow or something. Tell them to bring their wives. The more the fuckin’ merrier.”

“Alright, I'll--... I'll step out.” Oz gestures towards the door. Stifler sits down on the bed with a hard sigh.

 

+

 

The next morning, Finch turns into a fucking detective.

He's looking for any inconsistency in their story, any hint that it isn't real, because for some reason he really, really doesn't want it to be.

Luckily, though, Stifler and Oz have been lying their way out of compromising situations since freshman year, and things fall into their natural order. They bounce off of one another easily, used to building a story and never contradicting the other. It makes them a much more convincing couple.

_And,_ it leaves Finch stumped. He has no choice but to believe them.

Jim and Michelle show up around lunchtime, their kid in tow. Michelle looks like she hasn't slept in days.

“Oz!” Jim says, grinning. He and Oz hug, an aggressively heterosexual hug, and Jim greets Stifler in a completely different way -- an odd, uncomfortable nod and wave of his hand. Stifler knows he's never really been loved by Oz’s friends.

“So glad you fuckers could make it,” Stifler tells him.

“Stifler!” Michelle scolds him. “Not around the kid.”

“Fuck,” Stifler says. “Sorry. I mean, shit. Sorry. Fuck--”

Jim sighs. “Michelle, it's no use.”

Michelle sighs to match Jim’s -- they really are meant for each other -- and caves. There's no holding Stifler’s tongue, and everyone knows it.

“So nice of you to come,” Finch chimes in from an armchair. He's holding a glass of wine, swirling it around absently. He's trying to crack them, but Stifler knows it wont work. “Once Kevin and his wife get in, we'll go to a restaurant. That'd be… a quadruple date, yes?”

Stifler fumes a little at the way Finch is trying to draw it out. The child clings to Michelle’s leg as she cocks her head, questioning. “Quadruple date?”

“Yes.” Finch glances over at her, sitting up a little taller. “You and Jim. Me and Jeanine--” Stifler coughs, but Finch pointedly ignores it. “-- Kevin and Ellie. And, of course, Steven and Oz.”

Jim blinks. He glances from Finch, to Oz, to Stifler, and then says, “Motherfucker, you _were_ trying when we kissed!”

Stifler gags. “Was not!”

“You kissed?” Michelle barks out a laugh. “When?”

“When we rented that cabin,” Jim assures her. “Before we were dating. The lesbians--”

“-- they weren't lesbians,” Stifler interrupts. “I slept with them.”

“Stifler, aren't you gay?” Finch cocks his head.

“Yeah, no shit, Finchfucker.” Stifler huffs. “I just didn't know it. I also fucked your mom, but that was just out of spite.”

Finch… is surprisingly calm, for the circumstances. He sets down his glass. “I suppose that's fair, considering what I'm going to do to your mother.”

Stifler’s nose scrunches up, and Oz wraps an arm around his shoulders to calm him down.

“I'm fuckin’ fine, fuckface,” Stifler snaps. He yanks himself away from Oz, fuming. Michelle shifts to shield her kid. “It's not like I'll have to live with them. I'd kill myself if I had to do that shit.”

“Right.” Finch nods slowly. “I'd kill myself if you had to live with us, too. Good thing you're staying with Oz.”

Oz and Stifler make fleeting eye contact, and it's in that moment they realize they're going to have to fake this for way longer than they originally thought.

After a few minutes of polite small talk with Jim and Michelle, Oz says, “Steve, can I talk to you in private for a minute?” and grabs Stifler’s sleeve.

The door to the bedroom shuts loudly behind them.

“Give me your apartment key,” Oz demands. He holds out his open palm.

Stifler stares at his hand blankly. “What? Why?”

“I'm gonna make an excuse to go out and move a bunch of your stuff to my apartment before dinner.”

It almost makes sense. Stifler frowns. “We can just… fucking tell them it isn't true. Finch isn't gonna let up. Man, fuck that guy. I don't see how you could stand him all these years.”

“Stifler,” Oz says, warning in his voice. “Give me your fucking key. I'm committed to this. So what if we have to pretend to date for another month? Hell, you could _actually_ move in with me if you needed.”

Stifler’s stomach flips. He digs through his pockets and presses his apartment key into Oz’s palm with a sneer.

As they head out of the room, Stifler with his head down for once in his life, Oz announces, “Hey, guys, I left something important back at the apartment. I'm gonna run back and get it, alright? If Kev and Ellie get here, don't bother waiting up for me. I can just text Steve and meet you guys there.”

Finch studies Oz’s face. “What did you leave?”

And Oz, because he's a quick thinker, looks Finch in the eye and says, “Sex stuff.”

Finch pales and nods towards the door. Stifler smirks in his direction, but he feels odd about the whole situation, particularly about Oz’s commitment to the lie. He tries to shake it off and instead focus on making Finch’s life a living Hell.

“Stifler,” Michelle says. “Do you mind if I go through the fridge? We didn't bring any snacks.”

Stifler bites his tongue. “Yeah. My mom is really particular, though, I can show you.”

Michelle nudges her kid towards Jim and follows Stifler into the kitchen. As he's picking through the cabinets, sorting through boxes of crackers, he can't help but ask her, “How did you know you liked Jim?”

Michelle laughs.

“It's a funny story,” She says. “This one time, at band camp, Jim came to find me because he wanted to know if he was any good in bed. He wanted to impress Nadia -- you remember Nadia, right? The hot Czechoslovakian girl? -- but then, he glued his hand to his dick--” Stifler bites back a laugh. “-- so I had to pretend to be his girlfriend until it went back to normal so he could sleep with Nadia. Then, I faked breaking up with him, and realized I was gonna miss pretending to be his girlfriend.” Her smiles fades into a frown. “Why did you want to know?”

Stifler shoves a box of Cheez-its into her arms.

“No reason,” He snaps. “Go feed your fuckin’ kid.”

Michelle looks taken aback, but she doesn't argue. She leaves Stifler leaning back against the counter and doing more introspection than he's probably ever done in his life.

 

+

 

Kevin and Ellie show an hour or two later, and Oz is still sorting out the apartment situation. Michelle complains that she's starving, but Finch says, “Jeanine is showering, and shouldn't we wait for Stifler's… lover?”

“Lover, eh?” Kevin grins, snaking an arm around Ellie’s waist. “Who's the lucky lady?”

Stifler makes eye contact with Finch, then with Jim, and for once they're all in silent agreement.

“You'll see, Kev,” Jim promises. Michelle starts to say something, but Jim steps on her toe to shut her up, and she slams her mouth shut.

On the way to dinner, Oz calls Stifler in the car.

“Okay.” He sounds out of breath. “The place is kind of a wreck, but I did it. Are you guys out yet?”

“On the way,” Stifler says. “You're meeting us there, right? It's the Applebees between the house and the apartment.”

Oz makes a noise of affirmation. “Are they listening in?”

“A little bit. Just to me, though.”

Finch and Kevin are both giving Stifler odd looks, but he pointedly ignores them.

“Alright. I'll give you something to respond to. I'll see you there.” Oz takes a breath. “Love you.”

Stifler's heart skips a beat. “Love you too.”

He hangs up the phone. Kevin gives a low whistle. “Love, huh, Stifler? That's a big deal.”

“Shut up, shithead,” Stifler mutters.

They get to the restaurant soon enough, and they haven't even ordered drinks by the time Oz gets in. He takes the empty chair between Stifler and Kevin, and to really sell it, presses a kiss to Stifler’s lips.

“Sorry I'm late,” He says. “Steve put all our stuff in a really weird place, so it took me a long time to find everything. Hey, Kev, Ellie. Long time, no see, huh?”

Kevin gapes, speechless. Finch says, “Must have been a lot of stuff.”

“Just the usual,” Oz starts. “ Y'know. Stuff like, ass--”

Stifler puts a hand on his shoulder and tells him, “Shut the fuck up.”

“What?” Oz’s eyebrows furrow. “You've never had trouble talking about your sex life before, but now that _I'm_ involved--”

“-- Fuckface,” Stifler interrupts. “Shut the fuck up.”

“You two?” Kevin finally asks. Oz nods, and that's the end of the conversation.

 

+

 

That night -- the last night they're staying -- Oz congratulates Stifler on a heist well pulled off, right before bed. Stifler excuses himself and goes to look for Michelle, or Jim, who are staying a night because they're both just drunk enough that they shouldn't be driving. Especially not with a kid.

Luckily, Michelle is awake watching TV.

Stifler sits down next to her, and she glances over at him.

“Oh, hey, Stifler.” She offers up a crooked smile. “Did you need something?”

“...Yeah, actually.” Stifler feels vulnerable. He hates feeling vulnerable. “Can I ask you some advice?”

Michelle frowns. “I guess so, if you really want some.”

Stifler takes a deep breath, and reminds himself that this is a serious conversation, and he shouldn't hide from it behind excessive swearing.

“Oz and I aren't actually dating,” He says.

“What?” Michelle asks, her face a question mark. “So, you're not really gay?”

“Oh, no, I am,” Stifler promises. “Fuckface isn't, but I am. My mom didn't fuckin' believe me, so I needed a fake boyfriend, and I didn't think…” He sighs. “You know how you told me the story about how you knew you loved Jim?”

“Yeah-- _Oh!”_ Michelle breaks into a grin. “You really love him, don't you?”

Stifler scrunches up his nose and he shushes her frantically. “Shut the fuck up, don't say that.”

“But it's true!” Michelle laughs. “You love him. You should tell him, now that you know.”

“Did you tell Jim immediately?” Stifler asks.

Michelle frowns. “Oh, no. He came and found me. At band camp.”

Stifler’s mouth feels dry. “Great fuckin’ advice, Michelle. Shit. How about I do exactly what you didn't do.”

“I could have,” Michelle promises. “I was just scared. Oz might be scared, too. If Jim and I were both scared, we'd never have gotten together. But, I will tell you this. He would never have gone this far with it if he didn't really care about you. Guys don't come out to all their friends for just _anyone.”_

Stifler frowns. He stares at his feet.

“Go to bed.” Michelle nudges him. She grins. “You've got at least tonight with your… Prince Charming.”

When Stifler settles into bed, Oz’s arms wrap around him, Oz's face presses into the back of his neck. He almost points out that there's nobody around to see them until he realizes that he likes the pressure.

He sleeps better than he ever has before.

 

+

 

The morning that follows is bittersweet.

Stifler is sure that everyone can tell he's slowly realizing he's fucked, even Finch makes an off comment about, “Did Oz break up with you?” to which Stifler just about punches him.

“Fuck off,” He snaps, eyes scanning the room for where Oz may have gone. He drops the bag in his hand and sets off to find him, pretending like he doesn't notice Finch trailing him.

“Oz,” He says quietly, not bothering to shut the bedroom door behind him. Finch will probably bore himself. “Oz, I need to talk to you.”

Oz makes a 'hmm?’ noise and doesn't glance up from the clothes he's packing back into his suitcase.

Stifler takes a sharp breath and says, “I fucking love you, dude. I mean, like, I'm fucking _in love with you.”_

Oz glances at the door and whispers, “Is somebody listening in?”

But Stifler is done with… whatever this is, so he says, “Probably Finch, yeah, the motherfucker. But that's not why I said that.”

Oz pales. “You… no you don't. No, that's not fair. All these years--” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You can't just say that now.”

“Fuck you,” Stifler says, and it's mostly instinct. “What do you mean, now? I'm allowed to have fucking _feelings,_ Oz, even if through all of high school I didn't think I could. You know, maybe if I had figured that out sooner--”

“-- I was in love with you,” Oz interrupts. Stifler falters. “Before I met Heather. I was in love with _you._ And even then. But I watched you, through high school, and college, and _fuck,_ man, you don't get to say you love me now.”

There's a pause. Stifler has so many things he wants to say, but no fucking clue how, because he's never been that kind of guy.

“Sorry for dragging you into this,” He mumbles. “I knew I should have just gone on fucking Craigslist.”

He slams the door when he leaves the room, and obviously, Finch is standing right there.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Stifler snaps at him. Finch shakes his head like he's terrified and bolts.

 

+

 

Oz insists that Stifler doesn't get a ride from Jim and Michelle, because despite everything, he's “still committed to the lie.”

Stifler tries to tell him that Finch heard everything and will probably tell his mom, but Oz doesn't want to hear it.

The ride to Oz’s apartment is silent. Silence makes Stifler’s skin crawl. By the time they get inside, it's grown to be too much.

“We can just tell everyone we broke up,” Stifler says. “It might as well have happened, anyway, after all of that.”

Oz’s nose crinkles like it does when he's upset. “You're so _selfish,_ Stifler, _fuck.”_

Stifler opens his mouth to protest, to say he's given Oz _so many outs_ , but Oz’s lips lock with his own and it's not like the kiss at Jeanine’s, it's not like any kiss Stifler has ever experienced.

“You're so fucking confusing,” Stifler mutters. His nose brushes against Oz’s.

Oz sucks in heavily through his teeth and manages a lopsided smile.

“I fucking love you,” He says.

Stifler laughs, and with a breath says, “Me too.”


End file.
